Keeping the Nightmares at Bay

The sun beat down mercilessly. Sweat trickled its way down his back, making his shirt stick to his skeletal frame. He was running. His chest heaving with effort. They were chasing close behind. He had to outrun them. His kids needed this food. They needed him. Just a little bit further, he told himself, he couldn't get caught now. He would lose the guards in the trees coming up. He had to. He just had to keep going. Not far now.....

Jim sat up with a start. His heart pounding, his body convulsing as his lungs struggled for air. He was in his bed on the Enterprise. He was safe. His kids were......... He...... He didn't know....... That was the worst part...... Not knowing....... He refused to think about it...... About them...

Knowing that further sleep would be impossible tonight, he pushed himself out of bed and dressed himself in a daze.

He pulled on a soft gray t-shirt, a size too big and almost worn out. The neckline was completely stretched out, exposing his entire neck and much of his shoulder. His pants were likewise worn and soft. A pair of faded black lounge pants, drawstring tied loosely around his hips. Soft and loose was about all the clothes he could stand after a nightmare like this. A dream of Tarsus.

His room was too stifling, filled with the memories brought back by his dreams. Everywhere he turned, he expected to see a starving child begging for food, or perhaps one of Kodos' guards peering out of the shadows at him. It was more than he could handle. He had to get out of here.

Jim walked to his door. It slid open noiselessly. Stepping out of his quarters, he padded quietly down the hall, eyes straining against the brightness of the lights.

He used less frequented paths and was careful to avoid being seen by passing crew members. He was in no state to interact with them now. His dreams, his memories, were still too fresh in his mind to tolerate that.

He made his way to the quiet and, thankfully, unlit observation deck. It was blessedly empty. Sitting down in front of the large window, he pressed his face against the cool glass and watched the stars speed by. Tears began to collect in his eyes as he rested his forehead gently against the glass. He felt the slight vibrations of the ship reverberate through his body. He had no strength left to hold back the tears, and they spilled over.

He cried, his chest heaving silently for all those kids. His kids. He desperately wished to know if they had survived, if any of them had made it out of that hellhole alive. He remembered each of their names, each tiny gaunt face staring up at him like he was their salvation. Guilt consumed him. The tears wouldn't stop.

The door behind him slid open quietly. Jim was too lost in his grief to notice another person had entered the room until a gentle hand was laid on his shoulder. He looked up to find Spock gazing down at him, concern evident in his dark eyes.

He sat down beside him with effortless grace.
"Jim. You are distressed. May I be of any assistance?"

Jim couldn't help himself. It was all too much. He collapsed into Spocks arms, holding onto him for dear life. Sobs racked his body.

Spock simply held him back with equal earnestness. His grip tight, but comforting. He had felt his Captain's distress through the T'hy'la bond. And even though Jim was unaware of it, he had to go help his mate. To try and ease his pain.

Jim's sobs eventually began to subside to small hiccuping cries as Spock held him tenderly, running one hand softly through his hair. Soon, they ceased altogether, and Jim unconsciously snuggled closer into Spocks arms. His breathing finally evened out, and he drifted off to sleep.

Spock carefully lifted his love's sleeping form into his arms and carried him out of the observation room. Since he could not access the Captain's chambers without authorization, Spock brought him to his own room.